There are many times when we go out for a drink that every bar is full. Every table taken, every stool sat on and everyone is loud and happy (except the inevitable couple outside ‘having a barney’, but that’s a given). This environment is what we think of as ‘the pub’; bustle, laughter, loud voices and queuing at the bar. It’s a generic shared memory we all have and it’s what most of us picture when some one says ‘we’re going out for a drink tonight’.
There are also times when we go out for a drink that this is not the case. There are mid-week evenings in January when it’s minus three with an angry wind and solid, lumpy, kneecap-threatening ice underfoot. These evenings are not bustling and loud, the hardy souls who muster up the wherewithall to leave the house and get amongst it (ahem) are few and far between and the pubs and bars take on an entirely different perspective.
If you’re thinking I’m that I’m suggesting the quieter nights are not up to much, nothing could be farther from the truth. Not everyone will agree I’m sure but we think occasionally having a pub to yourselves is a great thing. It’s all about the company really and for as much as we rigorously judge every minute spent in bars, it’s done retrospectively, the actual reason any of this exists is just to get us out to more bars more often. The better the company the less it matters. That said if the place is, for want of a better word, shite, without the atmosphere to carry it through, you can come away cursing a blood oath through gritted teeth never to darken it’s festering door again.
Which rather neatly brings us to The Abingdon.
The scene is as mentioned above, Kensington is the set of 28 Days Later, it’s brass monkeys and the boys, offensively sober at this point, are wobbling down an icy High Street Ken like Bambi in stilettos. The evening is an official Publocator’s birthday, much like the Queen we have two, the actual day and the corresponding Publocation night out. You might say then everyone sometimes has two if you count the parties but the official Publocation birthday night is on top of that. Like I said: more bars more often. Tonight the Abingdon is number two of five.
Attractive pub The Abingdon, it’s all white and sits at the corner of two Georgian terraces (I always say ‘Georgian’, I have no idea really), there’s usually a couple of little bistro tables outside but not tonight, not sure why. The main market is dinner and wine and in a rather Kensington way the website calls the place a ‘restaurant and bar’ but calling it something else doesn’t change what it is. It’s a pub with a makeover. But, whatever label we give it, it’s got a great bar for sitting at and, lo and behold, stools are available.
I was starving having spent a futile day trying to spend money in Westfield with nothing more than a bowl of (rather tasty) Vietnamese soup to keep me going so I went straight for the menu. It turned out to be the wine list so, as wine is their thing, I shouted up a bottle of Kim Crawford Pinot Noir and promptly forgot about my belly. The wine was great, something we can’t really give the pub all the credit for, however the glasses were sparkling and the chap doing the pouring was quick and attentive. Given the punter/staff ratio was about 2:1 I should think so too.
I’d forgotten about my belly but it certainly hadn’t forgotten about me so when it protested again we decided to make the most; Fois Gras and chicken liver parfait with not enough brioche was delicious, the duck pancakes were expensive (£14 for 2) but excellent and the skinny chips hot and crisp. There were other things which escape my memory but certainly nothing weak enough to detract from the overall experience. I had a great steak frites here before now and I’m happy to say the standards don’t seem to have dropped.
In the depths of winter, sitting on bar stools in a toasty pub with full bellies and well-made drinks in hand is a very pleasant experience indeed, the weather brings out the blitz spirit, the banter is in full swing and with the venue running smoothly it creates a very particular type of evening, memorable for all the right reasons, that just doesn’t happen all that often. The Kim Crawford soon bottomed out and the weather, clearly having stirred my Scottish ancestry, drew me toward the Whisky. If you ever catch me out and about and you want to send a drink over (alright, no need to laugh) go for Whisky and soda, it’s my favourite mixer and more importantly there’s little chance of it being ruined by poor drinksmanship. A handful of said Whiskys in an all-too-short space of time and we were making for the door, nothing to do with the pub, we just had other places to get to.
Stepping out I had become strangely oblivious to the cold which may have had something to do with the festivities, particularly seeing as though I went down like a sack of spuds about three feet from the door (I was like that fat bird on the ‘injured at work?’ ad who belts her knee on the wet floor, it makes me wince every time I think about it. I’m now pointlessly holding my knee and typing with one hand). Unfazed and suffering in silence (ahem) I soldiered on with a steely determination, slightly saddened by the knowledge that it would probably be quite some time before that particular kind of pub visit happened again.
The Abingdon is a very well-kept place, the food is good to great, the wine well chosen and the environment well worth the visit, even if you’re the only ones in there.
Particularly if you’re the only ones in there.
Bobby
Where: The Abingdon, 54 Abingdon Road, London W8
When: 8.30pm Wed 6th Jan, 2010
Unpublicised: Sit at the bar or reserve a booth. Eat food. Drink wine.
Closes: Lunch 12.30pm – 2.30pm (Mon – Fri) 12.30pm – 3.00pm (Sat & Sun) Dinner 6.30pm – 10.30pm (Mon) 6.30pm – 11.00pm (Tues – Sat) 7.00pm – 10.00pm (Sunday)
Tel: 020 7937 3339
Website: http://www.theabingdonrestaurant.com/
Menus: On the website
Interest: It’s owned by two blokes and a woman. Well that’s what it looks like from the photos on the website.
